No Team Without You
by Terp4Life
Summary: Inspired by the Jane's line in 218 "There is no team without you." A quick "two-shot" that popped into my head and demanded to be written.
1. Missing

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

She'd told him only the day before: "There _is_ no team without you." And yet, here they all sat, looking at each other blankly at the conference room table. Well, it might be a stretch to say _all of them_. At the table were Zapata, Patterson and Jane. All the team members who were still _left_.

They'd been told that Pellington would be in shortly. Notably absent, of course, was Kurt. Reade wasn't there either, since he'd unceremoniously walked out a few days before, and his future was only slightly less unclear that Kurt's. Nas also wasn't there, but that wasn't a surprise either. After all, she fallen on her sword, so to speak, the day before, sacrificing herself to keep the team from having to go before Congress, so that their team could remain intact to fight Sandstorm.

Except that they _weren't_ intact. There had been six of them not so long ago, and now there were only three. They three remaining team members had already exchanged their echoed words of disbelief and confusion, and now they simply sat and waited. What exactly were they supposed to do, now, anyway?

Pellington came in brusquely, looking at each of them with the same cold expression that he always wore, the one that reflected at the very best, disinterest, and at worst, displeasure – not that you could really tell the difference. None of them could remember having ever seen the man _smile_. Not once.

Taking the seat at the head of the table, he got right to the point. "Agent Weller is no longer on this team," he said, not wasting time with pleasantries or with beating around the bush. "I'll be assigning a new team leader as soon as I can. Though I have to say, the last time I interviewed for that position, I found the other applicants for the job woefully underqualified compared to Agent Weller…"

"Wait… _what?_ " Zapata was the first one to react.

Pellington looked at her in surprise, raising an eyebrow. "Is there a problem, Agent Zapata?" he asked coldly.

"What do you mean, ' _he's no longer on this team?'_ " Zapata almost demanded. "What exactly happened since yesterday?"

Pellington seemed to ignore the question, and merely began speaking again where he'd left off, looking at Patterson, then Jane, and then Zapata again. "In the meantime, Agent Zapata will take point on the Sandstorm investigation. The team may continue to have Roman assist you as cases allow... assuming that he…" Pellington paused, as if looking for the right words. "…stays out of trouble."

He turned his cold eyes back towards Patterson next. "Agent Patterson, your team in the lab remains the same." Finally, looking at a shell-shocked Jane, who had still not recovered from the bombshell that he had dropped first, he said, "Miss Doe, your role as consultant with this team also remains the same… At least for now."

Those last words filled her with dread, but it was nothing compared to the panic that she felt over his _first_ words. Blood pounded in her ears, and for a few seconds she could hear nothing else. All three women sat in stunned silence for several seconds as Pellington regarded them, attempting to assess their reactions before he ended this short meeting. He'd said what he'd come to say.

"But… but _sir_ ," Patterson sputtered. "What… what…?" She needed to know what had happened to Weller, but in her shock, she was simply incapable of forming a coherent sentence at that moment.

"Why is Weller no longer on the team?" Zapata asked again, more bluntly this time, filling in her co-worker's question without hesitation. Jane just continued to sit in stunned silence.

"New evidence has come to light," Pellington replied in the same cold voice. "His presence puts the mission of this team in jeopardy, and he has been reassigned."

"And what the hell does _that_ mean?" Zapata blurted out in frustration. "Weller is _essential_ to this team. His name is on Jane's _back,_ for God's sake." Pellington regarded her outburst without a single change in his expression, which only served to anger the three women in front of him even more.

"Agent Zapata," he said, a hint of condescension in his voice, "I suggest that you calm down. I am not at liberty to discuss the decision that was made. All I can tell you is that Agent Weller is no longer on this team, and that he will be replaced. As will Agent Reade."

That was almost too much for Zapata to hear, and if Patterson had not reached out and laid her hand on Zapata's shoulder at that moment, it seemed entirely possible that Zapata may have lunged at Pellington. Jane, sitting across from the other two women, simply continued to sit there, frozen, her brain still struggling to process what they had been told.

 _There is no team without you._ She'd just told him that yesterday. He hadn't done this himself… _had he?_

Surely he wouldn't have done something that would jeopardize his career after he'd already known that Nas had sacrificed her own so that he could keep his… A sick feeling crept into her stomach, and she hoped that she wasn't going to be sick.

Pellington said that he'd been "removed." What exactly did that _mean_? Was it different than being fired? _What had_ _ **happened**_ _?_ Not that any one thing was better than another, because whatever had happened, he wasn't _there_. He was… _off the team_. Her mind refused to process these words together. How could that be right? After everything… This was _his_ team. How could they function without him? How could they expect the three of them to just move on, just add not one, but _two_ strangers to their midst and expect those two people to even begin to _understand_? This wasn't just a job, after all. It had been personal, to all of them, but _especially_ to Kurt.

And then suddenly she felt as though she'd been punched in the stomach. _Kurt_. What would this do to Kurt? Never mind what it would do to the team, or what it would do to _her_ … She'd never worried much about herself, after all. When given a choice, she'd always put anyone and everyone before herself. No, she was literally unable to imagine doing what they had been doing for as long as she could remember without Kurt. She'd seen him knocked down before, but this…

 _This isn't happening,_ she told herself. The problem, of course, was that it very much _was_ happening. She glanced across the table at Zapata and Patterson, wondering if she looked as desperate as she _felt_ at that moment. Wondering if _they_ felt as desperate as she did. How could this…? No… It just couldn't…

Her thoughts were jumbled, trampling wildly over each other in their attempts for her attention. She couldn't have articulated them if she'd wanted to just then. As much as she tried to listen to the conversation going on around her, she heard only voices, no actual words.

When she looked into the eyes of the other two women, she saw many of the same emotions. Confusion. Frustration. Fear. Worry. Maybe a hint of desperation, but she had a feeling that that one was mainly hers alone. She felt her composure slipping, and she silently begged herself to find enough strength to at least make it through this meeting. At least until she could escape from this table, from Pellington, and barricade herself… _somewhere_. She didn't even know where. In the end, it didn't matter much. All she knew was that she couldn't do… _this_. Whatever this was, whatever their team had become, she couldn't do it. Jane had been through a lot, and she liked to think of herself as someone who could deal with more than her share of life's crap.

But this? _No._

Jane wasn't sure how much of the conversation she'd missed, much less if there'd been anything important, but suddenly she turned slightly to face Pellington only to see him stand up, nod at them and make his way back out of the conference room. Patterson and Zapata, who sat facing the door, watched him go as he retreated back to the elevator, glaring at him through the glass. Jane didn't notice it, of course, even though they were looking right past her, and facing her direction. No, Jane was having a hard enough time continuing to breathe in and out.

Saying nothing to the other two, Jane pushed herself to her feet, pressing her hands against the table hard in order to lift herself up, then walking on shaky legs towards the door. Glancing at each other worriedly, Patterson decided to be the one to voice the concern that she and Zapata communicated without even having to speak to each other.

 _Of course_ Jane was going to be the hardest hit by Weller's removal. They were all reeling, of course, but he and Jane… well, they all knew that their relationship had always been the exception… in every way.

"Jane," Patterson, called after her. But Jane was already out the door of the conference room, and they watched helplessly as she stumbled out into the bullpen, then quickly rounding a corner out of sight.

Both breathing hard from the shock of what had just happened, the women nodded at each other. "I've got Jane," Patterson mumbled.

"I'll try and get Weller," Zapata said with a nod as she lifted her phone to her ear. There _had_ to be a good explanation for this. Or at least… they hoped so.

"Good luck," Patterson mumbled.

"You, too," Zapata replied, already hearing Weller's phone ringing over and over in her ear. This did not bode well.

Patterson headed in the direction that they'd seen go, peering around corners as she came to where one hall intersected another. Realizing quickly that she had waited just a little too long to have a good chance of finding Jane quickly, since their building was distinctly labyrinth-like and Jane had, after all, been trained in the art of being invisible when necessary, Patterson took to combing all of the hallways in the entire section. Of course, Jane could have ducked into a room anywhere along _any_ of those hallways, Patterson thought in despair. It wasn't as though Jane didn't know how to disappear if she wanted to... which of course, just then, she _did_.

After an hour, it was with a heavy sigh that Patterson admitted to herself that Jane didn't seem to want to be found. She was there _somewhere_ , at least she _hoped_ that she was, but she'd simply been unable to find her, despite the very short head start that she'd had. Trudging back to her lab, she'd sent a text to Zapata, informing her of his fact. It seemed that Zapata hadn't had any better luck getting in touch with Weller, sadly – or Reade, for that matter. She'd tried getting ahold of him, as well, when she hadn't gotten Weller, desperate for _someone_ to tell her that what seemed to be happening wasn't actually happening. It just _couldn't_ be.

When Patterson walked back into her lab, wondering if she could possibly scroll through the security camera footage from the hallways and find a clue to where Jane had gone, she found Zapata sitting dejectedly on a stool, her head in her hands, leaning her elbows against the counter next to which she sat. She didn't know what to say, so she said nothing, simply walking over and sitting down beside her.

"Weller would be so pissed if he could see us right now," Patterson said, sounding suspiciously sniffly. "He'd tell us to get back to work."

Zapata nodded absently, sighing and then replied, "I just can't believe this. I mean, what the hell happened since yesterday? And why didn't he _tell_ us anything…? Don't we deserve to _know?_ After everything we've been through together?" There was an angry edge to her voice, and it made Patterson feel even sadder than she already did. Zapata was justified in her anger, of course, and in a way she felt it, too. At the same time, Kurt Weller was the most honest and decent man she knew, and if he had indeed done this on purpose, than he had a damn good reason. If he hadn't done this to himself, well, that was a whole different story, one that she was afraid to even consider.

They sat in silence, alternating between glancing at each other and staring into space. This wasn't happening. It _couldn't_ be happening.

They were lost in thought when Jane stepped wordlessly into the doorway, pausing there and standing awkwardly. She'd debated between leaving the building and stopping in the lab, but indecision over where to _go_ if she left the building had helped her make the decision. After all, no sense in giving Pellington more ammunition to use against her. Besides, she'd had a feeling that she would find the two of them there, doing pretty much what they were doing – _nothing_ – just sitting there, looking almost as shell-shocked as she felt.

Patterson looked up and noticed her first. "Jane!" she exclaimed. "I was looking for you for an entire hour!" She slipped off of her stool and walked over to Jane, who looked visibly distraught. She didn't appear to have been crying, but from even just a quick glance, the other two could tell that the news had hit her hard. Pausing uncertainly in front of Jane, who was still standing in the doorway, Patterson finally leaned forward and hugged her tentatively.

Jane tensed when Patterson put her arms around her, knowing that the other woman was just trying to be supportive. She'd spent the past hour or so in some sort of trance. She'd found a quiet room – she didn't even know where she'd been, exactly – and just _sat_ , staring straight ahead. Her mind refused to work, refused to think. She'd just… tuned out. This was not reality. She simply refused to accept it.

When Patterson stepped back and looked at her, she knew that she should attempt to mold her face into a smile, but she simply could not bring her to do it. Looking at her with concern, Patterson couldn't help but mutter, "We're going to figure this out. We _are_. It's… it's what we do, you know?"

Jane nodded weakly, appreciating Patterson's optimism but suddenly feeling very, very tired. The past hour or so had simply drained her of all the energy in her body, and she found that there was suddenly nothing left. And yet, she could _not_ give up. After all, if their situation was reversed, there was no way he would ever have given up on her, no matter _how_ their past might have made someone think otherwise. "I'm going to see if I can find him. If he's at home, first. If not… I have a few other ideas," Jane told the other two tonelessly.

"Do you want us to come with you?" Zapata asked. The question was mostly a formality and they all knew it. After all, if she _did_ find him, they imagined that Jane would probably prefer to have a private conversation – as much as the other two would also love to be able to hear his explanation.

"No, I… I'm fine," she replied hesitantly. She knew they wouldn't insist, that they would come along if she wanted them to, but would otherwise let her handle it alone. After all, it wasn't as though he was _missing_. Not _yet_ , anyway…She was simply looking for someone who probably just didn't feel like answering his phone. The fact that she didn't even remember how many times she'd tried to call him, and text him, during the time before she'd appeared in Patterson's lab… Well, she tried to put that out of her mind. She'd thought that maybe she'd have better luck than the other two at getting him to answer… but apparently she'd been wrong. Even though she told herself that that wasn't a personal affront to her, and she had no idea why he wasn't answering or responding, it still stung. She liked to think that after everything, their relationship would have made her the one to get through to him.

 _Maybe he_ _ **couldn't**_ _answer,_ the voice in her head suggested. Of course, this didn't make it better. On the contrary, this suggestion just made her feel worse.

"Call us if you need anything?" Patterson asked tentatively. There was no guarantee that she would, of course, but Patterson hoped that she'd at least consider it. They knew Jane well, and therefore knew that the chances of her asking for help were relatively slim.

"I will," Jane whispered, then turned and walked out of the lab. She would start at his apartment, then the park at the end of his street. After that… well, she simply hoped that she would find him in one of the first places she looked. Preferably his apartment, and with a _really_ good explanation for all of this.

Thirteen hours later, just after ten o'clock that night, Jane let herself in through her front door with a heavy heart. If he'd been at his apartment, he wasn't opening the door. He hadn't been at the park where she'd failed to meet him that night… the night when she'd chosen to go to Oscar over Kurt. As she had done many times in the past, he agonized over why in the world she'd made that decision. At the time it had made sense to her, but now… she had only regrets. Especially now that he seemed to have simply disappeared without a trace. He also hadn't been at a dozen other places that she'd tried, hoping against hope even as it seemed to drain away little by little.

Her phone buzzed and she held her breath for a second, hoping that the text was from him. It wasn't, only Zapata, checking in. Jane typed a reply, updating her on the fruitless search for their boss, their _friend_ , pushing the door closed behind her and dropping her phone on the first hard surface she found. She was drained. It wasn't that she was giving up, because that had never been in her vocabulary, and certainly not now, with Kurt missing, but at that moment it was all just too much. The problem was, of course, that she simply didn't know how to make it stop.

Sitting down on her worn out sofa, she rubbed the heels of her hands against her tired eyes, pushing her shoes off of her feet and leaning over until she was lying down. Curling up on her side, she closed her eyes tightly against the frustration, the desperation, the barrage of images that continued to pound in her head. It wasn't better when she closed her eyes, however. If anything, it was worse. After all, the images were in her head, so closing her eyes only made them clearer.

 _Where are you_? she thought, unable to accept that this was happening. There had to be a good explanation, and yet… even Patterson had been unable to come up with a single lead. _That_ was a bad sign, even though none of them wanted to admit it.

The exhaustion of the day quickly caught up with her, and Jane drifted off into a fitful sleep, willing it all to simply not be true when she woke up, and yet knowing that it just didn't work that way.


	2. Terrified in a Good Way

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

Jane sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily. What was going on?

It took several minutes of confusion, during which time she struggled to piece together her jumbled thoughts before she finally understood what was happening to her.

It had been a _dream_.

 _Oh my God,_ she thought. _It wasn't real._

It was another few minutes before she caught her breath, but she couldn't lay back down, couldn't relax. She just continued to sit there, struggling to breathe normally and to calm herself down.

 _It was a dream,_ she repeated to herself _._

Kurt hadn't been removed from the team. None of the things that she'd been so upset about were real. It was a relief, but even so, she couldn't get her heart rate under control. Glancing up at the clock, she saw that it was only 3:53 am. Since there was no way she was going to fall back to sleep, she pushed the covers back and stood up. Still feeling shaky, she turned off her seldom used alarm clock – it was rare that she slept long enough for it to wake her up, anyway – and then went into the bathroom to take a shower. She might as well get ready for work. If she went in early, it would be far from the first time she was in before the rest of the team. Besides, it was better than sitting there, thinking about the dream that she'd just had, which she was sure that she would dwell on until she saw Kurt in the office with her own eyes.

It was later, but still barely 6:00 am when Jane stepped out of the elevator into the familiar bullpen outside of Kurt's office. It was still and quiet, none of the agents in their department having shown up this early. That was fine with her. Again, it wasn't the first time that she was the first one there. She cradled a large coffee cup in her right hand, taking a seat in the chair at her workstation and twisting it around to face the elevator. She knew that she would have to wait a while, but there was no way she was going to get any work done until she saw him. It had been all she could do to keep herself from texting him at 4:00 am, after all, asking him to reassure her that he hadn't been removed from the team. She'd used all her willpower on that endeavor, so she didn't even attempt to do anything but sit and stare tiredly at the elevator, willing it to open.

Her eyes were heavy, and they fell closed more than a few times before she heard the familiar _ding_ even once, announcing the arrival of the first agent of the morning. Jane was startled out of her semi-consciousness, suddenly sitting rigidly in her chair, her eyes now wide open. To her immense relief, it was indeed Kurt who stepped out of the elevator, spotting her immediately and his face filling with confusion.

It wasn't as though Jane had never been in the office before him before, but this time was different. She wasn't working, not even pretending to be working. Instead, she was staring at the elevator when the doors opened. The large coffee in her hand and even more tellingly, the dark circles under her eyes, told him that something was definitely wrong. She'd had trouble sleeping in the past, but lately it had seemed like she'd been doing better, as least as far as he could tell. They weren't quite best friends, but he would describe their relationship at present as… _close_. He felt like if she'd been having trouble sleeping before now, he would have noticed something. At least… he _wanted_ to believe that there wasn't something going on that he'd simply failed to notice.

"Jane," he said worriedly, stepping out of the elevator and walking towards her. "What's wrong?" To his surprise, he saw her eyes tear up slightly.

"Nothing," she whispered, shaking her head. Her voice cracked on simply that one word, and it was obvious to him that there was a lot more than "nothing" wrong with Jane.

Sighing slightly, smiling at how very _Jane_ she was being, refusing to acknowledge that anything was wrong even when it was so blatantly obvious, he sighed. "Come into my office," he told her, taking a sip of the coffee he was holding.

As he watched her, she simply nodded. He'd almost expected her to argue, and was surprised at how easily she had agreed.

 _Just more proof that something's wrong,_ he thought to himself, walking past her and then holding the door open for her.

She walked in front of him, her shoulders slumped and her feet dragging, finally dropping down to sit on the couch against the far wall of his office. Following her through the door slowly and watching as she sat down, he walked towards her, watching her carefully. Both her hands were wrapped around her coffee cup, and she was staring at the top of it stubbornly, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Jane," he said in a gentle voice, hoping to get her to open up. "Did you not get any sleep?"

"Some," she replied without raising her eyes.

"Not enough?" he asked kindly, taking a step towards her.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "But sleep was the _problem_."

Sitting down next to her on the couch and turning to face her, he simply watched her for a few seconds, trying to read her body language. It didn't take a special connection to be able to tell that there was something going on. He leaned against the pillow on the back of the couch, stretching his arm out behind her, trying to project calm that he hoped would rub off on her. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked. It was pretty clear that she did, at least to him, but he didn't mention that part.

She breathed slowly and deliberately, thinking that it was a good thing that she didn't have to look him in the eyes at this angle, and nodded slightly. "You remember yesterday?" she asked, then paused.

"In general, yes," he replied, smiling at her question, which was obviously not really what she wanted to know. "Did you have something specific in mind?" When she didn't even flinch, didn't grimace or smile or roll her eyes at his terrible joke, he got even that much more concerned, and he waited for her to continue.

"When you told us that you… that you were going to sacrifice yourself, your career, for the team," she continued slowly. He nodded, even though she couldn't see him, waiting patiently. He was pretty sure they were almost to the part where she articulated the problem. "When I said…" Her voice had trailed off to nothing, but she forced it back up to her mouth once again. "When I said there was no team without you?" she asked.

He nodded slowly, adding, "And then Nas beat me to taking the fall," he added with a sigh. It could have been his imagination, of course, but he swore she tensed up when he mentioned Nas.

"I had a dream last night," she said, so quietly that he had to lean forward in order to hear what she was saying, so that his position now matched hers. Both of them were perched on the edge of the sofa, shoulders hunched forward, his arms resting against his knees, like hers. "In my dream… I don't know. I think maybe Nas giving herself up to Weitz hadn't worked the way it was supposed to. All I know is that when the rest of us came in the next morning – _this_ morning, I guess – they'd somehow managed to take you down as well. You were off the team and no one knew why, and Pellington wouldn't tell us anything… and we… I…" Her voice trailed off, sounding specifically as though she'd been overcome by emotion.

 _But there's no reason for her to have been that upset,_ he thought. _Even if that had actually happened…_

"You all, our team… you would've been okay," he said reassuringly. "You would've figured it out." But she was shaking her head before the words were out of his mouth. Setting her coffee down on the table in front of her, she leaned her elbows against her knees and rested her face against her palms, so that he couldn't see her face at all. Her hair fell down to complete the effect of what she was trying to do – to hide from him, basically, he was pretty sure.

Sensing that logic wasn't going to help at the moment, he switched tactics. "What time did you wake up?" he asked her more gently.

She had to stop and think about it, because the morning had been such a blur. "Just before 4:00," she replied in a muffled voice, her hands still covering her face.

 _So she's been thinking about this for three hours already,_ he thought sympathetically.

"I thought we had an agreement," he said slowly. "You were supposed to call me if you needed me. No matter what time it was."

There was a pause, and he wondered if she even remembered that conversation. It had been a very, very long time ago. "That was… _before_ ," she replied simply. Her voice sounded sad. She'd taken her hands off of her face and now rested her arms against her knees once again, her hands dangling in front of her just like his were doing. Her eyes stayed down, pointed at the floor.

For a second the comment stung, as he realized that she had assumed, understandably so, really, that that deal had evaporated along with everything else between them. Why should she assume otherwise? Reminding himself that there was nothing he could do about the past, only fix the present, he leaned slightly towards her so that his shoulder bumped hers, leaning back again, but leaving a smaller distance between them than he originally had.

"Well then," he said, as if it was the most logical thing in the world, "I guess we need to make the deal again. Okay?"

She shrugged, still staring at the floor, and he swore she tensed up so that every muscle in her body was contracted. For a few seconds he just stared at her, shaking his head slightly at how things could have changed so much, and yet not at all. She was, as she always had been, simultaneously as tough as steel and as fragile as glass. And like he always had, he loved that about her.

"Jane, I mean it," he told her sincerely. "You don't have to feel like there's no one who's there for you when you need someone, because it's not true. Unless… there's someone else you'd rather call in the middle of the night…?" He wasn't sure why he'd added that part. Had he been trying to ask about that guy she'd been dating – Oliver – without actually asking?

 _Maybe._ The question had seemed to just slip out.

Slightly embarrassed, he watched as she just shook her head, smiling sadly. "Oliver and I broke up, if that's what you're trying to ask me," she replied. "He said that he… _didn't have the emotional real estate for someone whose life was as complicated as his_ ," she repeated. "And let's face it, my life is about as complicated as they come."

 _Why does she sound like she believes that he was right?_ he wondered. _Why does she always let herself believe the bad, but not the good?_

Now he _was_ embarrassed that his question had slipped out, and he wondered if it showed, despite how hard he was working to keep his composure.

"Speaking of people you talk to in the middle of the night…" Jane said, switching the topic slightly, "I can't help but notice that you're telling me to call you in the middle of the night…" She knew it was none of her business, but if he could ask her, then she could ask him. _Right?_ "…but I don't want to wake anyone else up…"

The half-finished half-question hung in the air between them, and she raised an eyebrow at him. He was surprised that she had even asked, but then again, he supposed that she had been emboldened by both exhaustion and his own question. It was only fair, after all.

He had a sudden flashback to the day they'd first gone undercover together as husband and wife assassins, the day they'd first met Rich Dotcom. They'd barely known each other, and as they danced, she'd asked him more than a few personal questions. For anyone else, he would have brushed them off and refused to answer. But for Jane… despite the very short time that they'd known each other then, he'd answered every question sincerely. He'd _wanted_ to open up to her, something he'd never experienced before in his life.

She hadn't even been able to bring herself to say her name out loud. _Nas._ The name made her slightly queasy. The woman's presence on their team had caused Jane so many conflicting emotions over the time that she'd been there, and now she'd sacrificed herself so that they could continue chasing Sandstorm… But that didn't change the fact that watching her with Kurt had been excruciating.

He stopped and smiled slightly, realizing that she hadn't known that things between himself and Nas had ended, just as he hadn't known that she was no longer with Oliver. After everything that had happened recently, to each of them, for some reason the thought that neither of them were seeing anyone made him feel… _what?_

 _Happy?_

"No problem there," he said softly, now looking at his hands and contemplating what exactly was going on between himself and _Jane_ at that moment. "There hasn't been for a little while now." Glancing up at her, he saw her nod ever so slightly, though her face didn't change.

Still, she stared at the floor, all of her muscles tense. He watched her for a few seconds, thinking for the thousandth time that this place they'd ended up, the way things had unfolded between them… it felt so unfamiliar and yet so familiar at the same time. They were both so different than they had been so long ago, and yet… at the same time, this was like being back at the beginning. No, he corrected himself, it wasn't quite like being back at the beginning. After all, now he had the benefit of hindsight. What this _was_ was a second chance.

 _Don't waste it,_ he cautioned himself.

"Jane," he began softly. "I don't like to see you like this. I don't like that you spent hours and hours worrying yourself. It was just a dream, okay? I'm not going anywhere, at least that I know of." He stared at her for a few more seconds, before swallowing the lump in his throat. "And if you wake up in the middle of the night, or even if you can't sleep in the first place… and you need someone, I want you to call me, no matter what time. Okay?"

Her eyes still fixed on the floor, she breathed in and out, noticeably more slowly and deliberately than before. There was a hint of something in her face, something that she was trying to hide… his first instinct was that she'd winced… but why would what he'd just said have had that effect? He didn't understand.

Her mind was having trouble processing his words. No, not processing them. She was having trouble _believing_ them. Not because she didn't _want_ to believe them, but because she wanted to believe them _so badly_ , and it made her mind scream with alarm bells – protective doors inside her mind that slammed shut when something like this happened… Something that could potentially lead to her getting hurt again. After all, what were the odds that it wouldn't all crash to the ground all over again? While logically she knew that it was different now, she'd programmed herself thoroughly not to believe the kinds of things that she'd once dreamed about. That things could work out between them. After all, it was too complicated. They'd proven that time and time again.

 _Hadn't they?_

He knew what was missing, all of a sudden, and why he wasn't getting through to her. Even so, it took him a few seconds for him to gather his courage to do anything about it. Slowly, he leaned forward and laid his right hand lightly at the base of her neck, tugging ever so slightly back toward him. The change in her was immediate, he noticed, as he felt the muscles that were so tense as they began to relax. She let herself lean slowly to her left side, towards him, until her head was on his shoulder.

Normally, she told herself, she wouldn't let this happen. Certainly not in the office, even this early in the morning when no one was around. But that day, as emotionally exhausted as she was, she had no energy to even try to tell herself to do anything else. No, just then this was exactly what she needed.

When he turned his head slightly, his cheek landed against her forehead. It hadn't been on purpose, but once it did, he wasn't about to move it from there, savoring the contact. Instead, he remained perfectly still. The only thing still moving was his right arm, which, now that she was closer, could reach across from the back of her neck across her shoulders.

When he felt her shudder slightly against him, tugging her closer to him was something he did without a second thought. Her breathing was uneven, but she seemed to stabilize the longer she leaned against him.

"Do we have a deal?" he asked, still holding onto her. For almost a minute, she didn't answer, just concentrated on breathing in and out, until he really thought that she wasn't _going_ to answer.

It was surreal, being there so early in the morning, sitting on the couch in his office with him, leaning against him and letting him see her this fragile, this vulnerable. It had been a long time since the last time she'd done that. Though really, she hadn't exactly chosen it, it had just… _happened._ She'd been powerless to stop it.

She wanted to answer, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. Did she want to believe him? Of course. Did she think that if she had another nightmare, that she would call him? She knew herself at least well enough to know how stubborn she was, so it wasn't a certainty, but she liked the feeling she got when she thought about being able to lean on him that way. That he _wanted_ her to lean on him that way. There was no one else to whom she would even consider confiding something like this, and only then did she realize how much she had missed it.

 _So what are you waiting for?_ she asked herself. Honestly, she wasn't sure. She wanted to tell him that they had a deal, and yet, she couldn't quite _do_ it.

He sighed then, shaking his head just a little bit but keeping his cheek leaned against her. "You're so stubborn. You know that right?" It was a rhetorical question, of course. They both knew that she was stubborn, and they both knew that the other one knew it. For that matter, they both knew that _he_ was equally stubborn, too.

When he turned his head just enough to press a kiss against her forehead, however, he felt her breath catch in her chest. Unable to explain how he knew to do so, he reached his left arm up around the front of her, so that she was now in the center of a hug, both his arms holding onto her tightly.

"Do we have a deal?" he asked in a whisper against her cheek. _There is no one else but you_ , he thought, willing her to hear it in his actions alone. He knew that he should tell her that, but it seemed like that would be too much at that moment.

"Okay," she whispered back. "It's a deal."

He suddenly realized that it wasn't quite the deal he wanted. More than he wanted to help her deal with the nightmares, he wanted to be able to do something that would _stop_ her from having nightmares in the first place…

 _Baby steps,_ he told himself. _It's a starting point._

She knew that any time now, he was going to have to let go of her. It was just about the time when the others would start arriving, and this wasn't exactly appropriate workplace behavior… But God, did she appreciate it… She'd have been perfectly happy to stay that way indefinitely.

 _What does that tell you?_ the voice in her head asked her.

 _Not now,_ she told the voice. _Over-analyze me later, but not now._ With a sigh, she felt herself relax again, and let herself lean against him a little harder. He must have been having the same thoughts about the others' arrival, because after a few seconds of slightly increased pressure of his cheek against her forehead, she felt him slowly lean back, away from her, his arms dropping reluctantly as he sat back, watching her carefully all the while. The look on his face could only be described as intense concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked. It seemed like a silly question, one that he'd been asking her for as long as he'd known her, or so it felt like. He felt as though he was suddenly very far away from her, now that he'd let go of her, and he had to fight the urge to move right back to where he'd been.

"Better," she said after a few seconds' thought. She might not quite be at _okay_ , but she was a hell of a lot closer to it than she'd been when she'd come in that morning. He was still watching her, and she turned and looked into his eyes, smiling slowly. "I meant it, you know," she said quietly.

"What?" he asked, momentarily confused.

"That there is no team without you," she replied, managing not to look away this time. "So since we're making deals, don't think of sacrificing yourself, even for the team, again. Okay?" Her voice was quiet but insistent, the look in her eyes serious.

He didn't know that he could make that promise, but this wasn't a time to argue with her. "I hope it never comes to that again," he said as a compromise.

Noticing that he hadn't quite agreed, she let it go. After all, she didn't want to argue with him any more than he wanted to argue with her.

"Me, too," she replied. He couldn't help but notice that the eyes looking back at him almost seemed haunted – though he supposed there was enough reasons for that to be true.

"You _would_ be fine, you know," he began, referring back to Jane's statement a moment before and echoing what he'd said at the beginning of the conversation. "Without me. The team would. _You_ would," he added. "Of all the people I've ever met, _you_ would be the one who would be the most fine of them all."

Watching him sadly for a few seconds, she shook her head just a little. _You don't get it, do you?_ she asked him in her mind.

"No," she whispered, feeling her composure slipping at the mere thought of Kurt being off the team. Suddenly the dream was flashing before her eyes all over again, and she felt her eyes getting misty.

"Hey," he said, watching her newfound calm slip away and not wanting her to go backwards. "I'm sorry," he said, sitting facing her on the couch as her body faced the other end of the room, so he was once again facing her profile.

Momentarily distracted from her racing thoughts, she turned to look at him, confused. "Why?" she asked. "You didn't do anything."

"Nothing besides something well-meaning that upset you. You know that that wasn't my intention, right? We need to fight Sandstorm, and it's more important than any one of us… I thought it was the only thing we could do," he told her.

"I know," she replied, staring into his eyes. "But I _wouldn't_ have been fine. I've already been through that once… losing you. I already know. Besides, I… I don't _want_ to have to be fine without you."

 _How does she do this?_ he wondered, feeling an ache in his heart and wondering how in the world she had that power over him.

 _You love her, stupid_ , the voice in his head informed him. _Glad you could catch up._

For a few seconds, no words would come out of his mouth. _What exactly is she saying?_ he wondered.

 _Really?_ the voice in his head asked in exasperation. _It's pretty obvious. She's distraught at the idea of losing you. What do_ _ **you**_ _think that means?_

"How about this?" he asked, choosing his words carefully and speaking slowly, trying to control the speed of his thoughts, as well. Was this going to backfire on him, or was this the right thing to do? "Assuming that we both survive the day, and that we have the energy afterwards, why don't we… get those drinks I've owed you for so long? Maybe some dinner, too." He couldn't help but wonder if he had read her correctly, or if he was about to regret the offer.

 _It couldn't be much more obvious,_ the voice interjected, but he ignored it, watching Jane nervously.

Slowly, he watched her expression change, the anxiety slowly making way for what he swore was relief. The corners of her mouth curled into the hint of a smile, and he felt the knot in his stomach loosen.

"I'd like that," she finally replied, just as slowly as he'd asked. It was the kind of thing she'd wanted so long ago, that hearing it now, it was simultaneously too good to be true, and yet also, after everything that had gone between them, also slightly terrifying… but in a good way, if that was possible.

 _You know that doesn't make_ _ **any**_ _kind of sense, right?_ the voice in her head asked. _Terrified in a good way?_

 _Yep,_ she thought simply. _That's the only way I can describe it._

"Good," he said, still holding eye contact with her and not having lost any of the intensity of the past few minutes. He smiled back at her now, immensely glad that he'd asked, and fighting the urge to take her hand, or to reach out for her in some other way. It was taking all of his willpower.

Finally feeling self-conscious from several minutes of staring into each other's eyes, Jane's smile grew wider, into an actual smile, and she looked down and picked up her coffee, taking a drink and then shaking a now empty cup, before setting it down again.

"It's going to be a long day," she grimaced. He wondered if she was referring to how tired she was already, or the fact that there was something to look forward to at the end of it. He supposed it could have been both.

"Why don't we walk down to the place on the corner now, before things around here get busy, and get you a refill?" he asked. His own coffee sat on his desk, she noticed.

Nodding, she realized that she was probably going to need a _lot_ of coffee that day. "I can go," she said. "You don't have to-"

But he cut her off. "Nope, I don't," he said with a shrug. "But I want to. Unless you'd prefer I didn't come with you." He was still looking directly at her, and once again, she stared into his eyes. There was nothing but sincerity there, and she smiled back at him without the hesitation that had been there before.

"I'd prefer that you _did_ come with me," she said, feeling herself blush just a little.

"Then let's go," he replied, standing up. "Because I have a feeling this is going to be a nonstop day."

"Right," she chuckled, "unlike all the other calm days around here."

"Exactly," he said, winking at her with a grin. It was nice to see her smile, even if it was hesitant and even though he knew that her emotions were swirling just below the surface.

They started toward the door of his office, glancing self-consciously at each other as they moved, just a little closer together than usual. Once again, he held the door for her and she walked through it ahead of him.

At the elevator, the doors opened as soon as they walked up and a startled looking Zapata stepped through the doors. "Hey, you two, good morning," she said in surprise. "What's going on?"

"Early morning coffee run," Kurt replied. "It's one of those days. You need anything?" They'd switched places, and Zapata was now standing outside the elevator, the other two now inside the doors, which Kurt was holding open.

"Nope, I'm good," Zapata replied, holding up her own coffee cup. "Thanks."

"We'll be back in a few minutes," he told her, then released the elevator doors, which began closing seconds later. They saw Zapata nod, and then she disappeared from view. Jane had moved back against the back all of the elevator, leaning tiredly against it for support. The adrenaline that had flooded her system when Kurt had arrived was quickly seeping out of her. He stepped back towards her, moving into the space beside her after pressing the button for the lobby, leaving only a fraction of an inch between their shoulders.

He was pleasantly surprised when he felt Jane's head lean against his shoulder not even a second later, and without thinking about it, he brushed the back of his left hand against the back of her right, his index finger hooking very loosely around hers. It was only for a few seconds, she knew, but she tried her hardest to commit the feeling of those few seconds to memory. She didn't have a lot of experience with the feeling of peace, but this was, she thought, a pretty good example.

When they stepped out into the lobby, which was now bathed in sunlight, a few minutes later, his hand grazed her lower back absently, dropping again before he'd even thought about it. Their day was bound to be filled with chaos, just like all of the others, but there, at the center of it, they had each other – in the same way that they always had, in some respects, and in a whole new way, in others.

They glanced at each other as he held the door that led them out of the lobby and out into the sunshine, and they couldn't help but smile. Somehow they knew that, despite the frantic and unpredictable pace of their lives, all the rest of it would fall into place as long as they had each other. Which they _did_.


End file.
